Resonate
by Peepla
Summary: Her abilities have made her isolated, separated from the rest of society because of her inability to control them. So when her protection can determine the fate of the earth can she learn to trust her supposed guardians? Can she find friendship among them, possibly something more, or will she cling to the echoes of her past? Steve Rogers/OC Captain America/OC
1. Chapter 1

AN: Okay… first fanfiction. I just want say two things.

First of all the way I post is not going to be structured. I will attempt to post once a week, if not more, during the summer. However, during the school year that might change. I'm enrolled in a very rigorous program at my school and I devote a lot of time and effort to it. My posting will inevitably go down because of it; I just wanted to warn you. And secondly, while she is not my beta, I would like to thank my friend Meg for pointing out some rather painfully obvious spelling mishaps I made.

Thanks Meg~chan! I'd probably be lost without you!

Alright! Criticism is most certainly welcome, flames are unneeded, and I really hope this turns out well.

Disclaimer: Despite my most heartfelt desires The Avengers and all of its characters do not belong to me… Sigh. But I do claim my OC.

Prologue

"Echo is leaving the bookstore," a voice, harsh and static, filtered over Agent Maria Hill's communicator. She gave no response, her attention focused solely on the target. The small woman, black hair blowing wildly around her, was trying to lock up the quaint bookstore she had been employed at for over a year now. Due to the lack of available light she fumbled with the keys several times, inserting the wrong one over and over, before finally guessing correctly.

Nobody would ever assume this young lady, a mere slip of a woman, had the capabilities to take down a single grown man, let alone wipe an entire town of the face off the earth, but Agent Hill knew better than to jump to conclusions. It also helped that, at the blatant insistence of Director Fury himself, she had been given clearance to read the woman's file. While the file was brief, containing only two major incidents and severely lacking in any background information, it made one fact perfectly clear. This woman, codenamed Echo, was dangerous, extremely dangerous.

"She's heading your way Hill, less than thirty seconds." By now Agent Hill could hear the distinct thud of the woman's footfalls, the soft patter of rubber soled tennis shoes against concrete. Hill took a deep breath. She was a seasoned agent with years of experience to draw on but, in this singular instance, she found herself having to bury anxiety and exposed nerves under a cool façade. It threw her for a loop but, Hill rationalized, that out of all the missions she had ever been assigned none of them had involved such a high risk of failure.

"Fifteen seconds." Hill unconsciously checked to make sure her gun, the standard issue Glock 22 given to all cleared S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, was still snug in its holster. Ready to be drawn at moment's notice and fired in the case Echo became violent. It was still undetermined, even after all the assaults brought on the young woman by various world governments, if bullets could actually be effective on her. Even S.H.I.E.L.D. had a very limited scope of what her powers were capable of. She was an unpredictable variable and the last thing earth needed was for her to fall under Loki's control. That was the reason Hill had been sent here to the balmy Florida Keys in the first place.

"Go," came the whispered command from one of the many snipers stationed in various vantage points atop nearby buildings. Hill took another deep breathe, calming her frazzled nerves, before stepping out of the alley she had been waiting in and directly into the young woman's path.

Echo skittered to a stop, her light brown eyes narrowing immediately. She didn't seem overly surprised to see an obviously armed figure blocking her way. This had probably happened one too many times for her to become shocked anymore.

"Ms. Daily, my name is Agent Maria Hill and I'm from S.H.I.E.L.D."


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Apparently I must have done something to upset the universe because my world essentially went haywire the day after I first posted Resonate. First my computer dies… again. It's a fairly normal occurrence considering Betsy's (Yes, I named my computer.) practically a dinosaur. What wasn't common about this was that the computer fix-it guy I normally ship Betsy off to had a waiting list this time, a _long_ one. So I had to wait for two weeks to get my poor baby back up and running. _Meanwhile_, as Betsy was getting fixed I had a family emergency concerning my Great Aunt. She's quite advanced in age– she makes Betsy look like a toddler - and health problems come with the territory but this time she needed someone to stay with her at her house and take care of her until her doctor cleared her to live by herself again. My entire family and I have repeatedly tried to get her to move into a nursing home but she'll pretend to be deaf when we bring it up and the conversation goes nowhere. So I got to spend a lot of quality time with my oldest living family member and learn how to make her famous peanut brittle – it took several tries but I finally made some that was edible and not burnt to blackened crisps – but I didn't have much spare time to write as a result. Eventually my aunt got better and I got to return home weeks later only to find that mother had gone completely insane. She randomly decided to repaint our entire house from top to bottom and enlisted me as her little helper. After three days of having paint where paint should never be Betsy finally made her comeback and Ta-Da~! You have your very delayed chapter! Again, I'm terribly sorry, please forgive me?

Oh, and quick thank you to the following people who favorite/followed my story so quickly. It was shocking to get such an immediate response and very flattering! So, thank you!

Disclaimer: I own nothing even related to Marvel and that makes me tremendously sad but I'll get over it… eventually…maybe…probably not.

Chapter One: First Impressions

June 10, 1992.

Pensively, she gazed out the large window, watching as a group of children smiled, laughed, and played without fear in the lush field below. A sad smile managed to touch her own lips as her hand absently ghosted across her abdomen where a sizeable bulge could be seen underneath her dusty shirt.

"Ms. Tisba?"

Startled, the teen turned around. There – standing with what Makemba assumed was supposed to be a pleasant smile on her face – was the woman, the beautiful westerner with pale skin and hair the color of wheat, she had spoken to when she had first entered the stately building. Makemba dipped her head in a small nod.

"We have the paper work ready, all we need now is your signature," the blonde said in articulate but ridged French that lacked an easy flow as she flashed her unnaturally white teeth. A small hand, lacking any calluses or scars one got from hard labor, held out a plastic clipboard and a pen. Hesitantly, Makemba accepted both items. Her eyes, a light brown color, darted across the papers but were unable to comprehend the words written on them. Plaintively, she looked back up at the paler woman for help.

With a roll of her blue eyes the lady tapped a line at the bottom of the second page with a blood colored nail.

"Sign here and everything will be taken care of."

Nervously, she gripped the pen. It was then, with a shaky hand that she wrote out her full name Makemba Tisba, in a messy scrawl that was barely legible. It was one of the few things she could write but she felt a sense of pride in the fact she was the only woman aside from her mother – she was the one who had taught her how to write in the first place – in her modest village capable of such a feat.

Finished, she handed back the two foreign objects.

The western woman raised a delicately plucked eyebrow when she scanned the documents and the sloppy signature located at the bottom of the page but didn't say anything. Instead she pointed out a stern looking man wearing pale green scrubs, looming in a far corner of the room.

"Thank you, Ms. Tisba. I'm sure your son or daughter will be grateful for your sacrifice when they're older. Now that is orderly Smithson, he'll show you to the room you'll be staying in until the baby is born, okay?" Without waiting for the response the woman – Makemba never learned her name – walked off, her strange shoes clicking against the polished stone floors.

Sparing one last glance out the window – at the future for her unborn child – Makemba reluctantly made her way over to the tall man.

_Present day..._

"Say we let you form this... response team, let you continue with the Avengers Initiative, how does Echo fit into it all?"

Fury sighed and resisted the urge to rub his temples where an unrelenting pounding sensation was making itself known. He had learned long ago that a headache was just one of the many unavoidable consequences that accompanied dealing with the council.

"Ms. Daily's presence aboard the helicarrier is merely a precaution," he explained in a patient tone that most adults reserved for when they spoke to small children.

"A precaution, Director? You make it sound like she's a possible threat," stated the only woman council member. Fury shook his head – his frustration with the entire council was mounting already.

"She's a neutral party," the Director said in a firm, unflinching tone. Before he had even taken a single step into the darkly lit conference room he had spoken in length with Allison over a secure phone line. In a rather blunt manner the young woman had made it expressively clear that she wouldn't, under any circumstances, use her abilities to fight. There was just too much of a risk that if she was placed in such a high stress situation her already erratic control would plummet. "Although, Ms. Daily has been generous enough to help us by using her unique abilities to try and track down the Tesseract."

"So you do plan for her to be a part of the Initiative?" The councilman on the far left asked with poorly disguised interest, his jowls swinging each time he opened his mouth to speak. Though his face didn't show it, Fury wanted nothing more than to level the larger man with a lethal glare. While he disliked each of the council members to a certain extent this was the only one that the Director truly hated. Time and time again he had proven that he was nothing more than a greedy man that sought out power, no matter the cost.

"Absolutely not," Fury said in a clipped tone that broached no arguments. Effectively ignoring the surprised expressions of the entire council he continued to speak. "While her protection is of the highest priority for the Avengers, second only to locating and capturing both Loki and the Tesseract, it would be potentially catastrophic for her to engage in direct combat with anyone, let alone Loki himself. Simply put ladies and gentlemen, should Ms. Daily fall under Loki's control, like Agent Barton or Dr. Selvig, I fear that there would be nothing we could do to stop him."

Stunned silence was all that met Fury after he made his dramatic but all too accurate statement. Fortunately for the Director the council had already been briefed beforehand about Loki's abilities to manipulate someone's mind until once loyal agents became enemy hostiles. That information, coupled with what they knew of Allison's abilities, painted a very clear picture of the level of destruction Loki could potentially cause with Allison under his thumb. After a few minutes it was the female councilwoman that broke the strained hush that had settled over the room.

"I see," she said in a tight voice, "Given what we know of Echo's particular... abilities I motion that we allow the Avengers Initiative to proceed under the goals the Director has previously mentioned. Are there any disagreements, gentlemen?"

"No."

"None that would be relevant."

Fury turned to his least favorite councilman, the only one who had yet to agree. His face had gone an alarming shade of red and his mustache was quivering in what he could only assume to be rage.

"No," the plump man spit out the word with obvious distaste, his lips puckering like he had just swallowed a sour lemon.

"Then we're all in agreement. Director, I don't think we need to tell you what will happen should this response team of yours fail."

He nodded.

"Excellent, now should we move on to this month's budget constraints?"

Fury groaned silently – he would need an entire bottle of aspirin once he got out of this damnable room.

o.0.O.0.o

_Two days later..._

It quickly became rather apparent to Leslie Coulson that she had never met some quite like Allison. She didn't act like the snottily dressed, purely egotistical, political figures she played nursemaid to on an everyday basis – Leslie firmly believed she deserved a raise for all the bureaucratic nonsense she had to deal with constantly. Allison Daily was different and completely defied all her preconceived notions in one fell swoop.

For one, she didn't even want a personal assistant in the first place.

Allison, who had been casually dressed out in jeans – actual jeans for goodness sake! – and a simple t-shirt, had been vehemently adamant against the idea from the very start, insisting that she didn't need a babysitter who would probably be watching her like a hawk and reporting her every move, every single minute twitch back to Fury. It was only after Allison met Leslie in person – in true klutzy form the pinkette had tripped in the entryway leading to the lab where Allison had set up shop and had inadvertently proven to the black-haired woman that she was actually _not_ some highly trained assassin – that she agreed to the slightly awkward arrangement. Her acceptance of the situation had actually caused the Director – he had been the one who came up with the idea in the first place – to contort his lips into what actually looked like a grin of all things. Before Leslie could even properly marvel over the fact that the perpetually stoic Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. could actually do something other than scowl his expression reverted back to his normal glower – the almost smile disappearing like a random mirage or a unicorn. Still, Leslie knew what she'd witnessed and it was nothing short of a miracle.

But if that wasn't strange enough Allison turned out to be a nice, if a little distant, person.

It was an interesting experience to say the least.

Typically, Leslie was accustomed to being ignored and forgotten about by her temporary big-wig slave driver – boss was just too kind of a word for these people – until they actually wanted her to fetch something for them or perform yet another redundant task. Often she felt like she was invisible, a mere ghostly apparition among the living. Eventually, that lead her to dye her hair a new, extremely noticeable color each month to rectify that annoying feeling – much to her Uncle's frustration.

However, Allison not only acknowledged Leslie's constant presence but she actually chatted with her occasionally and made her feel like an actual human being. While it was true they never delved deeply into each other's lives or participated in any verbal sparring it was a refreshing change that Leslie welcomed with open arms.

Perhaps she could talk to her Uncle Phil about becoming Allison's permanent assistant every time she came aboard the helicarrier once he got back from his latest assignment. Buoyed by the brilliant thought Leslie practically skipped down the hallway with Allison's lunch safely clutched in her arms and studiously ignored the confused and faintly amused looks she received from the other S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel as she pranced by; it didn't matter to Leslie that the rest of the ship thought she was completely nutters.

o.0.O.0.o

As Allison polished off the last bite of the hamburger Leslie had left waiting for her on the counter she reminded herself, once again, to thank the flighty but still very sweet assistant Nick had assigned to her. Originally, she'd had her misgivings – the thought of a stranger constantly invading her space, encroaching on the privacy she so highly coveted had not been appealing in the slightest – but Allison had quickly warmed up to Leslie and all her various personality quirks. The pink-haired woman was extremely professional despite her appearance and very attentive to Allison's unspoken needs – it was almost eerie how Leslie would spontaneously appear the moment Allison needed her but she chalked it up to the pinkette simply having a good sense of intuition. She also didn't cross any social boundaries or ask uncomfortable questions that made Allison squirm. Instead, Leslie had simply offered up her surprisingly soothing presence and frequently chattered on about little, nonsensical things that had provided Allison with a nice, if brief, reprieve from her rather daunting task – hunting down the Tesseract.

At the sudden reminder of her so far unsuccessful hunt Allison frowned and picked up the last of her fries, coated them liberally with ketchup and popped them into her mouth. Chewing, she silently mulled over the newest dilemma Nick had blindsided her with.

It was a well known fact among Allison's scant group of friends that she enjoyed solving problems. Whether it was just a simple game of Sudoku or Nick's latest world-ending conundrum Allison liked the challenged the puzzles presented and, although she would never admit it to anyone, was grateful for the distraction they provided. They kept her focused, preventing her mind from wandering back to the less than pleasant memories that seemed to constantly stalk the edges of her conscious mind. The last thing she need was for her nightmares to start infecting her daily life as well.

Either way, Allison would jump at any opportunity to wrap her brain around a particularly challenging problem and the one she was currently enraptured in right now was turning out to be quite the pickle. Not only was the work itself tedious and draining – it was swiftly becoming harder and harder to maintain the continued use of her powers for such long periods of time whilst keeping a firm grasp on her somewhat unsubstantial control – but she had very little to go on.

There was nothing; no hint or smidgen of information that could point her towards where Loki, the Tesseract, or even Clint had disappeared to and that placed Allison into a rather precarious position. Until the time came where Nick somehow managed to procure a more tangible lead she was left conducting her search the old fashioned way – by hand.

For the past two days she had all but immersed herself in another world, looking for the unique signature of the tiny homing device implanted into Clint's left forearm that would hopefully lead her to the location of the Tesseract. Her lack of results was frustrating but there wasn't much she could do aside from continuing her meticulous search. So far she'd ruled out that Loki was hunkering down somewhere in the Americas or in Eastern Asia but that still left a huge area where he could be hiding – for all Allison knew the so called god of mischief could be sitting pretty in Antarctica.

Sighing, Allison balled up the foiled paper her lunch had come wrapped in. She tossed it into the air, causing the crumpled projectile to sail halfway across the lab until it neatly dropped into an empty waste basket.

"Score," muttering listlessly under her breathe Allison idly wondered if she should go hunt down Nick to see if he had anything new for her – odds were he didn't but she wouldn't pass up the chance to stretch out her legs. They were cramped and stiff from sitting for hours on end. Just as she was ready to hop down from her perch atop one of the many stainless steel stools scattered about the sterile lab the automatic glass doors behind her opened with a quiet whooshing noise.

Allison didn't bother turning around, figuring Leslie was finally back from wherever it was she had dashed off too. "Hey Leslie, thanks for bringing me lunch again – it was really good."

When she didn't receive the bubbly reply she had become accustomed to Allison peeked over her shoulder only to be met with a sight that had her toppling off her stool in shock.

"Oomph-," she landed on her back, effectively knocking the wind from her body. For one panic induced second she couldn't remember how to breathe, how to fill her lungs with sweet, sweet oxygen but that moment quickly passed and before Allison knew it she suddenly began to draw in huge, gasping lungfuls of air as two strange men hovered over her, concern radiating from their expressions.

The man on her right was nondescript with his olive toned skin that was so similar to Allison's own complexion; intelligent hazel eyes that were hidden behind wire framed glasses, and his mop of dark, curly hair. He was completely normal by most standards and most defiantly wasn't the cause for Allison's impromptu dive off her seat. It was the man on her left, the one that was now crouching next to where she lay, that had stunned her beyond belief.

He was handsome, of that there was no doubt, but it wasn't his chiseled features, honey blonde hair, or even his towering stature that made her mouth open and close repeatedly like a demented fish. It was the uncanny resemblance he bore to the teenage boy, barely a man himself, who had saved her when she needed saving the most, who had given her hope when she had been hopeless, and had ignited within her a fierce will to live when all she wanted was to die. It was deeply unsettling and the only thing that kept a torrent of painful, bittersweet memories from sweeping into her head was the pair of fathomless cobalt blue – not the nimbus grey color she vividly remembered – eyes staring down at her with worry churning in their depths.

"Miss," the blonde's deep baritone further served to bring her to awareness; no teenage boy could ever sound like that, "are you okay? You took quite the spill there."

It took her a minute but Allison eventually found her voice.

"Y-yeah, you just startled me." Allison swallowed, averting her eyes from the gorgeous man who caused her heart to swell with heavy, long-forgotten emotions. All of a sudden she had the strong urge to hug this male, this complete and total stranger and it scared her more than her nighttime terrors. Slowly she sat up; deliberately ignoring the way her body wanted to lean into the comforting warmth the blonde seemed to radiate from his person.

"Are you sure?" This time it was the bespectacled man talking, assessing her with a critical eye of a physician. "Do you feel any pain or numbness anywhere?"

"No, none at all." Regaining her bearings somewhat, Allison's eyes darted between the two figures that seemed to have randomly wandered into the lab – her lab really. "Forgive me for asking but… _who are you_?"

AN: So…how was it? Good, bad, or so spontaneously wonderful that you fell out of your chair like my little character Allison did?

Either way, let me know please! I love criticism because I'm a firm believer that it will only help me grow as a writer!

Also, I imagine you're left with a few questions. Like, who is Tsiba, for example?

I can't exactly tell you seeing as it would ruin the surprise but please, feel free to guess as much as you like! Who knows, you could be right… :3

Any who, till next time dearies!


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